“That’s great news!” Nix looks at me. “And how’s Dad handling the pregnancy? Are you ready for this?”

Hanna’s eyes dart to me then Nix. “He’s not… I mean, we’re not living together or anything, Nix. He’s just the dad.”

Just the dad sounds way too much like just the sperm donor, and I don’t like that. “Yet,” I mutter. “Not living together yet.”

Nix’s eyes go wide for a moment. Then she begins her exam—poking at Hanna’s hipbones and feeling her belly as she asks questions. Hanna hides it well beneath her clothing, but when her belly’s exposed, I can see where it’s begun to round with pregnancy, and I’m irrationally jealous that Nix gets to touch her.

“Shall we take a listen?” Nix asks. She pulls a giant bottle of jelly from the wall and uses the Doppler to smear it over Hanna’s stomach. While she searches for a heartbeat, we listen to the whoosh-whoosh of the womb, and I take Hanna’s hand.

Our eyes connect as the whoosh-whoosh becomes the sound of our baby’s heart. Dear God. I forgot how amazing that sound is. How inconsequential the rest of the petty bullshit feels when you’re listening to the tiny, miraculous heart of an unborn child.

“There’s baby one,” Nix says. “Sounds great.”

Hanna squeezes my hand as Nix rubs the Doppler over a different location on her belly, and again, all the whooshing is replaced by the beautiful drumbeat of a baby’s heart.

“And there’s baby two.”

I WISH I knew what he was thinking. His face looks almost pained as Nix turns off the Doppler and wipes off my belly, but I can’t read him.

“I did some research,” Nix says. “I didn’t want to refer you out to just anybody, but I called some colleagues who work in Indianapolis and found an awesome obstetrician for you.”

Frowning, I reposition my gown and sit up on the table. “What do you mean, refer me? I want you to be my doctor.”

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can’t do that. Not in good conscience. Even if there weren’t other concerns about your pregnancy, the fact that you’re pregnant with twins is enough of a reason for you to see a high-risk doctor. Add to that the less-than-ideal health you were in when you got pregnant and I think it would be best for you to be in the hands of a specialist.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “You think there could be something wrong with my babies.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” She places her hand on top of mine. “I’m just saying I want you to have the best care possible. You have enough to worry about. The quality of your prenatal care shouldn’t be on that list. Shall we set up your appointment for you?”

I nod. “Okay.”

Nix grins. “Don’t look so glum! You’re in your second trimester—this is as good as it gets. The morning sickness will go away, and the worst of your breast tenderness along with it. You’ll get your energy back. Enjoy it. Do you have any questions for me?” She looks back and forth between Nate and me.

“Not right now,” I say.

“You can get dressed, then. I’ll see you out front.”

I wait until she leaves the room before turning to Nate, and I find him staring at me.

“May I walk you home?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Without being asked, he turns around while I get dressed. We make our way up front, bundle into our coats, and step outside.

“I have to leave in a couple of days,” Nate says after we’ve walked a couple of blocks. “Collin misses his mom, and I need to take care of some things in LA.”

“Oh.” I shake my head, trying to make the disappointment scatter. He sends texts to check on me, but it’s not like we’ve been spending time together over the last few weeks. I guess I just found his nearness a comfort. “How long will you be gone?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and his breath puffs out like smoke in the cool air as he exhales. “A couple of weeks at least. I’ve been away too long, and I need to take care of some things if I’m going to spend time here after the babies are born.”

I draw in a breath. “You’re going to spend time here?”

We’re outside my bakery, but he stops and turns to me, tilts my chin up with his fingers. “When I say I’m going to be in their lives, I don’t just mean I want my name on their birth certificates. I mean the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights.”

“It’s just…not convenient.”

“Worthwhile things rarely are.” His eyes go hooded, and his hand doesn’t leave my face.

“What are you thinking about?”

His gaze drops to my lips. “You.”

I swallow. “What about me?”

“How much I want to kiss you.”

My heart stumbles. Because I want him to kiss me. And I shouldn’t.

“Do you remember my kisses, angel?” He skims his thumb over my lower lip, and something churns in my belly—hot and low and hungry.

“I remember.” My mind instantly conjures a catalogue of kisses. Outside the club, the cool air on my face, the brick against my back. In his pool, my naked body pressed against his. On his bed, his dark eyes intense as he slid into me for the first time.

He lowers his mouth until it’s just above mine, his breath warm and sweet against my lips.

“Don’t.”